


Blooming Breaths

by Harmonic_Wisp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Day 1: A Crush is Revealed, Did I sneak in a cameo?, F/F, FW2021.1, Fleurmione Week 2021, Hanahaki Disease, This Author Regrets Nothing, yes i did.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonic_Wisp/pseuds/Harmonic_Wisp
Summary: They say that the truth will set you free.For one, the truth will save a life.Fleurmione Week 2021.1 - Day 1: "A Crush is Revealed!"
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2021.1





	Blooming Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Fleurmione Week 2021.1 - Day 1 prompt: "A Crush is Revealed!"

When Fleur chose to become a cursebreaker, she imagined epic raids on old forgotten vaults, mind bending puzzles, and brushes with dangerous ancient magicks beyond her ken. And as ridiculously fantastical as all of that sounded, the French Witch actually got to experience all of that.

Just not all of the time.

The cursebreakers at Gringotts spent most of their time doing more practical work than anything else, but they still had their fair share of paperwork to contend with.

Fleur, unfortunately, was no exception to this. 

Today was an office day for the part-Veela and she was definitely feeling like a bird itching to escape her cage. She barely managed to get through some of her work, but her eyes were glued to the clock on the wall as it ticked away the time. Break time wasn’t even ten minutes away, but it felt like _forever_ to her. Fleur groaned from her place at her desk as the stack of parchment in front of her continued to taunt her with its very existence.

There was an audible chuckle from the other side of the room and Fleur immediately glared at the perpetrator. Or at least, she tried to. The only part of Bill Weasley that she could actually see thanks to the literal stacks of paperwork was the top of his red hair. 

“What is _so_ funny, _Billiam?”_ Her tone was sharp and would have easily been mistaken for antagonistic if it wasn’t for the use of his frankly fun to say nickname. It didn’t help that when a curious blue eye peaked at her from between his parchment prison, he probably spotted the way her lips twitched in amusement.

_“You_ are. One would think that you were going to have lunch with _Hecate_ herself with the way you’re so fidgety.”

Fleur scoffed, mildly insulted at the implication.

“I am _not_ fidgety!”

“Yes you are! And frankly, I’m not surprised. You’ve been extra cranky these few weeks since your designated _‘Hermione Time’_ was taken away.”

“Damn it, Bill. She’s my best friend, of course I’m excited to see her!” Fleur felt the flush as it formed on her face, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t normally so bad on clerical days, but she was far too excited to focus on boring reports. 

Today was the day that her best friend would be back in the country.

It was a little embarrassing to admit that a grown woman would be so worked up over seeing someone, especially since it had only been a month since they had actually talked face to face last. But seeing Hermione Granger always seemed to light a fire in her that the part-Veela could never quite explain away.

They had met back in 1994 when the TriWizard Tournament had taken place at Beauxbatons. Fleur had been a seventh year student and the eventual Champion representative for her school. Hermione on the other hand was a fourth year Hogwarts student gifted with the opportunity to take advanced courses on foreign soil. Fleur’s first real meeting with the witch was in the seventh year advanced runes class, and the two were coincidentally partnered for a project.

The two argued with each other profusely, questioned the other’s sources constantly, and nearly blew up the classroom with a demonstration over their _highly_ experimental runic ward circle. 

In short, they really hit it off. The unexpected duo were nearly inseparable that year. Even after Fleur had graduated — with top honors _and_ the Triwizard cup title in her hands — and Hermione returned to the UK, they kept in contact. It could even be said that part of the reason that the part-Veela chose to transfer to the English branch of Gringotts was to be closer to the brilliant witch when she had finished Hogwarts, though neither woman has actually confirmed or denied that.

Regardless of their reasons, the two witches could often be found taking their lunches together during the week. As a member of Gringotts’ cursebreaking team and thus under the employment of the goblins themselves, she was required to abide by the strict rule that any and all staff — both human and goblin alike — were to observe GNOLYKPSRRK, otherwise known as ‘lunch’ to the laymen at 12:13pm every day, Monday through Friday without fail. 

No one messed with a Goblin’s lunch break, at least, not without possibly inciting a large-scale war with the humans… again. 

Hermione on the other hand was a popularly sought after freelance Artificer who worked her own hours. She just happened to choose to plan her own midday food breaks around the French witch’s own whenever she could. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on who was asking) the brilliant brunette had been tapped by the local Ministry of Magic to consult on some project that involved their contemporaries in Japan. From Fleur’s understanding it involved a massive collection of stolen East Asian artifacts and that had kept the English Artificer so busy that she had been unable to meet with her friend for any sort of social get together during the entire duration of her contract.

But today was the day after the project’s conclusion, and thus the first lunch meeting with Hermione in a month. The only thing between Fleur and sandwiches with her favorite brunette was a stack of papers and a few more minutes ‘till the Goblins threw everyone out for an hour!

“You’re smitten.” 

Oh and a redhead with a stupid shiteating grin on his face. Fleur didn’t deign to acknowledge the foolishness that was coming out of his mouth as she flipped her hair and pointed a glare in his direction.

_“You_ are ridiculous.” She glanced at the clock. _12:10pm._ So close!

_“And_ you’re in denial.”

“You’re _British,_ what would you know?” 

“As emotionally repressed as you think we English may be, that just means that if _I_ can spot your pining then I’d say there’s an issue.”

Before she could retort back about the obvious expertise the French held about the very _nuances_ of love, a sleek looking barn owl swooped in through the open window. Fleur recognized it immediately as Hermione’s personal owl Archimedes. The poor messenger barely managed to land and lift its leg up when the French witch dove for the note obviously tied to it. Just as soon as she had managed to untie the missive, the bird took off and Fleur paused in her enthusiasm to stare in confusion at the avian’s retreating form. That in and of itself was unusual, since he _always_ waited for her to write a reply back to his mistress. 

“Huh, he did not even beg for a treat.” 

She pondered for a moment more before she shrugged and eagerly read the message from her friend.

Bill watched as the blonde’s earlier enthusiasm visibly drained from her form and was quietly replaced by drooping shoulders and an obvious air of disappointment.

“Everything alright there?” For a few moments his officemate was worryingly quiet, and the redhead was going to gently ask again when Fleur spoke up.

“Ah… no- I mean, yes. Hermione just… she wanted to let me know that something came up and that she had to cancel last minute.” 

Fleur sounded like she was in a bit of a daze as she said that and Bill winced as he felt her thrall turn sluggish and _tar-like_ around her. _Dejected_ didn’t even begin to cover it. It was honestly like looking at a kicked puppy who also just had their favorite toy stolen from right in front of them. 

“Er… Hermione probably had a good reason? You’ll see her soon enough, I’m sure of it!”

The eldest of the Weasley siblings feebly offered his reassurances, but Fleur just lifted such sad, pathetic eyes at him that the man irrationally felt like _he_ had kicked that proverbial puppy somehow. Before he could do or say _anything,_ to somehow alleviate that look from her eyes, a chorus of bells resounded throughout the bank. It was _12:13pm_ and a steady stream of goblins and other employees started to fill the hallway on their way to lunch. Fleur wordlessly dropped the letter on her desk with the rest of the forgotten paperwork and quietly joined the rest of their colleagues as they exited the building. In turn, the wizard felt the part-Veela’s thrall follow her out and suddenly the weight of room didn’t feel like it was crushing him with a wave of unadulterated _depression._

If even Fleur’s thrall was this bad after a cancelled lunch date then…

“Damn, girl’s got it _bad.”_

-oOo-

Fleur walked down Diagon Alley, though she had no real destination in mind. Her earlier disappointment had curbed her appetite, so none of the various restaurants or cafes she had passed looked appetizing in the slightest. It was times like these that she wished she could just bury herself in some practical work in the vaults, if only to keep herself occupied. Too bad that the goblins would literally take offense to her seeming disregard for their culture, and would likely use the excuse to string her up by her toes _and_ dock her pay. 

So instead, Fleur decided to mindlessly wander. Her feet took her forward as her preternatural grace helped her carelessly avoid stumbling into people while in her zoned out state, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. So it wasn’t a surprise that she eventually found herself on a lightly travelled side street in front of a _very_ familiar blue door. If it were placed anywhere else, the entryway would have stood out. But within the eclectic sea of colors strewn all throughout Diagon Alley, the door looked plain and would be easily overlooked in no thanks to its many more impressive neighbors. 

At least, that would be the case if it wasn’t for the curious contraption that floated right above the air in front of the door itself. A collection of interconnecting and constantly shifting gears, it was almost as if a clock had exploded and was forcibly reformed into a floating cloud of brass, iron, and copper that still had the audacity to _tick._ One could cast a hundred _Finites_ and throw hex after hex at the blasted thing, but it would stay unblemished as if it were above the petty attempts of lesser mages. 

No, regardless of what any fools tried upon this work of magical art, it would continue to exist and baffle even those who lived with the very existence of magic. And no matter how it shifted, it would always spell out the same thing every time:

**Hermione Granger**

**_Consultant Artificer_ **

Fleur had been floored when Hermione had first showed her the intricate device. It was the casual way the brunette had introduced her to the piece, as if it were some paltry trinket and not a literal marvel of magical brilliance given physical form, that _really_ clued her in on just how smart her best friend was. The blonde’s only complaint about the unusual ‘signage’ was that it didn’t also list the three different masteries that the genius witch happened to have under her belt. 

Hermione claimed that it was unnecessary and a touch of modesty was more tasteful.

Fleur thought that was silly, but she would let the brilliant witch have her modesty. Fleur would simply have to advertise just how amazing her best friend was all on her own. She may even drag Ronald and Harry into it! 

The French witch was so busy mentally recounting the virtues of one Hermione Granger that she totally missed the sound of approaching footsteps behind her.

“... Fleur?” The aforementioned witch’s eyes widened at the familiar voice, and she spun around with renewed excitement.

“Hermione—!” 

Only to freeze at the sight before her. Hermione stood in the middle of the street, dressed in a flattering set of robes that were crinkled in such a way that were so _obviously_ an indication of a Granger patented hard night of research and experimentation. Under normal circumstances, this is where Fleur would playfully tease the brunette and her workaholic tendencies. 

_“Ah,_ Hermione- _san?_ Is this an acquaintance of yours?” 

Except Hermione had someone with her. Standing next to the English witch was a woman of clear Asian descent, and the first thing Fleur noticed was her striking purple eyes. The orbs were mesmerising, and the blonde had to forcibly tear her attention from them lest she continue to stare unabashedly. The second thing that she noticed was just how _close_ the two other women were standing to each other. 

“Oh, yes. Rei- _san,_ this is Fleur Delacour-” For a moment, it almost seemed as if Hermione was going to add to that in some way but she grimaced and gave a pained smile as she presumably swallowed her intended words. After an awkward moment, she gestured to her companion. “Fleur, this is Rei Hino — technically Hino Rei if we’re going with the traditionally correct way of _family name_ then _given name.”_

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delacour- _san._ I have heard much about you.”

The woman in question clasped her hands together and gave a respectful bow to the blonde. The straight ebony hair that cascaded down her back gently followed her movements, which allowed them to brush against Hermione due to the lack of space between them. It was then that Fleur noticed the subtle way that the brunette was leaning slightly against the slender woman beside her, and she suddenly regretted how empty her stomach was right then. Why else would she feel as if her insides were tying themselves up into knots? 

“It’s… it’s nice to meet you.” Fleur attempted to give a congenial smile, but felt it was probably closer to the grimace that Hermione displayed earlier. She saw both women flinch, and she realized that her thrall was probably as turbulent as the emotions chaotically running amok within her. “I was just going for a walk during my break, I did not mean to interrupt you. My apologies, I will see you later then Hermione?” 

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but her mouth snapped close and she settled for a tight smile and a stiff nod of her head. Fleur released a steadying breath and nodded back before she abruptly turned and left, her gait uneasy yet still evenly paced as she left the view of the Artificer’s office.

It was only when she turned the corner that she broke out into a run, away from Gringotts, away from the alley, and far _far_ away from the vibrant blue door and the brilliant witch who occupied it.

-oOo-

“You should have seen it, Ginny! She had long, beautifully straight black hair. Her eyes were this mysteriously captivating shade of violet. And she had this aura of mystery and maturity that you cannot help but stare!” Fleur groaned from her place on the Potter’s couch, splayed out as she was with all the dramatics of someone bemoaning their lot in life. Ginny Potter, _nee Weasley_ sat across from the blonde disaster on a nearby settee in half divested quidditch gear and with a cup of tea in hand. She had _just_ gotten back home from practice and was in the midst of ridding herself of her kit when Fleur toppled out of Grimmauld Place’s fireplace in a wave of green fire and hysterics. She’d been stuck consoling the witch ever since.

“So… are you upset or do you want to bed this woman because quite frankly I can’t tell the difference.”

Or at least, as consoling as an incredibly amused Ginny could be. 

“You don’t understand! This woman with ‘Ermione had legs for days, she had this foreign accent that made her English sound exotic, and she practically looked like she was sculpted by Aphrodite herself! How can I compete with that?!” Fleur cried out in despair towards the ceiling, as if to accuse the gods themselves for this grave injustice upon her person. Meanwhile, Ginny just watched as the carelessly beautiful part-Veela bemoaned her unfair lot in life with so much emotion that her previously diminished French accent came out in full force. It was a good thing that the blonde was preoccupied with yelling at forces beyond her ken, because her amused host didn’t think that Fleur would appreciate how hard she was rolling her eyes. 

There was a tell-tale _swoosh_ from the floo room before a work rumpled Harry walked into the living room, only to pause in his attempts to manually remove the ash from his person when he perceived the scene in front of him.

“Uh… what’s this then?”

Ginny pointedly motioned her teacup towards the disaster on their couch. 

“Apparently, Hermione shacked up with a beautiful foreigner.”

“Uh… congratulations then?” Harry tentatively offered as he flicked his eyes between his wife and the woman who was honestly closer to his _sister from another mister_ than him.

_“My best friend has replaced me!”_

“Oh, uh nevermind on the congrats then.” The normally unflappable auror gave his wife a look of panic as Fleur apparently dialed up on the theatrics. Ginny just shrugged as she wordlessly communicated “the fuck am I supposed to do about this?” to him. The couple continued to pantomime to each other as the upset blonde lay ignorant nearby, so distracted by her emotions that she totally missed Harry as he threw his hands up in defeat before he turned to Fleur. “Look, Fleur I’m… sure this is just some misunderstanding.”

_“Misunderstanding?_ I know what I saw!” Fleur suddenly gasped as she sat up and looked at the Potters. “Do you think Hermione has a type?!” This was said with such seriousness that the French witch somehow managed to curtail her accent and regain her usage of the English _‘H.’_

“Oh, she has a type alright.” Ginny muttered into her teacup, though Harry threw her another look and a _‘shush!’_ for good measure. 

“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for all this. But I’m _also_ sure that Hermione hasn’t _replaced_ you for anything. You said it yourself - Hermione is your best friend, and I know for a fact that she cares for you a great deal. Just go talk to her, you’ll both work it out, just watch!”   
  


“You really think so?” Fleur’s eyes watered in time with the pout of her lips, and Ginny wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hex the grown woman for inadvertently subjecting them to her dangerous _puppy dog eyes_ or to give her a hug because she looked so pathetic.

“Yeah, Fleur just… go talk to the Bookworm, like Harry said - it’ll all work out.” And after the redhead’s urgings, the downtrodden woman nodded and trudged over to their floo room. At the sound of Fleur’s exit by magical fireplace, both husband and wife let out twin sighs of relief. Harry ran his hand through his already messy hair as he glanced first in the direction of the floo and then at the love of his life.

“ _Merlin,_ remind me why two women as smart as those two still think they’re _just_ ‘Best Friends’?” Ginny snorted at that before she downed the rest of her tea. She had been _really_ tempted to splash in some fire whisky earlier, but never got the chance. 

“Because they’re useless gays that don’t even realize they’re in love with each other. If anything, this might even help them _finally_ realize what’s been obvious to the rest of us.” 

“You really think so?” Harry looked skeptical, after all his pseudo-sister and her ‘Best Friend’ were notoriously oblivious to the other’s feelings. Ginny just shrugged and summoned the bottle of _Ogden’s_ that she had been eyeing for the last half hour.

“Who knows? Even if it doesn’t, I’m sure they’ll figure it out _eventually._ Not like one of them is gonna die before they get their heads out of the clouds or something.” She said it with a joking tone, though Harry couldn’t help but notice the odd shiver down his spine. That paired with the feeling of a metaphorical stone in his gut told him that _something_ was wrong. But what? 

He summoned a teacup of his own as he joined his wife for an impromptu drinking session.

Hopefully, he was just imagining things.

-oOo-

Hermione didn’t know what was worse, the harsh sound of her violent retching as it echoed about her office or searing pain that lined her esophagus. It was as if someone had taken a long set of talons and clawed them down the inside of her throat. Or maybe it was the moment after she had hacked into the metal bucket, when that split second of _relief_ set in — only to be taken away by the agonizing realization that the urge to rid herself of the painful substance within her was building up _again._

Then she remembered the look of hurt in blue eyes when she couldn’t even say Fleur’s name without looking like she had swallowed a handful of broken glass. 

_‘There are some things worse than pain.’_

Hermione knelt there on the floor, her face hovered over the opening of the receptacle in front of her as if she were afraid to move from it for fear of her next episode. 

“Here, drink this.” 

The brunette glanced up and saw the tall glass of ice water held up near her face. With trembling limbs, she reached for it and nearly dropped the cup twice had it not been for the slender hands that continued to support it. Hermione gave the Japanese witch a grateful look, though the worry on the other woman’s face made her want to turn away in shame.

“You cannot go on like this, Hermione- _san._ ”

“I’ll… I’ll be fine. I just need to do a bit more research—“ She felt the instinctive seize in her chest and before she knew it she was face deep in her bucket. It was about thirty seconds of hacking and coughing before she shakily lifted her head back up again. Rei helpfully held the water glass to the brunette’s lips again as her look of worry turned to admonishment.

“There _is_ no more research to do. This curse is well documented in my country. There is only one cure.” 

Hermione spit into the bucket, as if to rid herself of the terrible taste. 

“No, there’s only a _chance_ of a cure. It’s not enough—!”

Rei shifted so she was properly in front of the tormented witch, and she gently reached a hand over to wipe the speckles of blood from the corner of Hermione’s mouth. 

“If you don’t take that chance, you’ll not have one at all.” 

  
At her solemn words, Hermione looked up at the hovering woman and although purple eyes gazed pityingly down at her, she only saw the pained sapphire orbs of her best _friend._ Hermione had no retort, no sign of her legendary Gryffindor defiance. Just heart wrenching sobs interspersed with the painful retching of grotesque petals, the yellows of the daffodils impossible to spot thanks to the blood that stained them.

**Author's Note:**

> While the cliffhanger is just a _smidge_ cruel, it was entirely necessary! It was like the universe was telling me to break the story into two parts, and _this_ was the obvious break in it! It was only logical!
> 
> ... *dives behind the blast shield*.


End file.
